[0 CSTRATED INTERITETTS.

THE ALCOVE,

bust of I'echter is under a glass shade on the mantel-board. .\ screen of Sir Walter Scott's 1s noticeable.

The Alcove 1s the most delightiul arrange- ment - miniature rooms conceivable. It was really a bit of spare landing space now it 1s one of the prettiest corners in the whole housc. It 1s of white cnamel. As a speci- men of artistic furnishing, this little alcove may be opened out as o perfect model. It won't let one get away. Tow cosy are the cushions under the canopy of the window-—how quaint the oaken table and chairs, which are an exact model of those used by Shakespeare himsclf !

Over the mantel- board arc many por- traits, all of them autographed and ac- companiced by kindly messages : Madame Nordica, Miss Julia Neilson — who mar- ried Miss Terry’s brother I'red - - Miss Mary Anderson, Sara- sate, and Salvini. Signor Tosti has sent his photo. and sur- rounded it with words and music— GGood-

Lrowe o Photo, 1)

AlIss FLLEN TERRY,

491

bye, Summer, good-bye, good- bye!” Tosti, one day, specially sang this beautiful song for Miss Terry at a friend’s house. Very shortly afterwards this pleasant memento came. There 1s an old picture of Mrs. Cowley, who wrote “The Belle’s Stratagem.” Where there arc not books there are pictures, such as an admirable likeness of Roger Kemble, father of J. P. Kemble; Mrys. Siddons, Sarah DBernhardt, IForbes Robertson, and Miss Terry and Henry TIrving in various characters. Ired Bar- nard, the artist, 15 well repre- sented with ctehings of - Mr. Trving as Diedy Grantin “The Two Roses.” An original study as [lamlet 1s striking. There Is also an cexcellent pencil sketch of Miss Terry as Zortia, whilst Sidney 1. Smith s responstble for Miss Terry as Beatrice.

A spining-wheel 1s near the window.

“No, you arc wrong,” sard Miss Terry “that is not the one I used to sit down to as Marguerde o lraust” T bought this i Nuremberg and meant to use it, but, beheve me, T found that an old “property’ one looked much better on the stage.”

Just then a tiny little piping note was heard. It was as sweet and as truc as the note of a flute. [t seemed to come from upstairs, and was apparently the gentle whistling of some old German air by an unknown and mvisible personage, My nquisitive sur- prise delighted Miss Terry. She beckoned me. We went tip-toe up the stairs, and as [ drew aside the amber silk curtains of the drawing-room, the whistle became louder and sweeter still. Ah, there was the culprit, caged up in the window !

“ Prince—my bull-

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[ Wit dow o Grove,